We ate the chickens last night. You know the joke about how meat X “tastes like chicken” when we can’t describe how something tastes? I am here to tell you it is not the case if you’re eating real chicken. The chicken I have been eating has a taste of chicken to it. The chicken I had last night had flavor. I’m not gonna get on a soapbox about the modern poultry industry and the evils of Cornish Cross hens that are the Elizabeth Taylors of the chicken world. I just wanted to share with you that I have now had real chicken, one was a Rhode Island Red and one was a Barred Rock, and they had real flavor to them. The meat had muscle tone to it, if that makes any sense. You couldn’t get it to do a sit-up, but you could see muscular definition. We are going to try smoking them next time. The Eviscerator didn’t really follow any set recipe last night as we all just wanted a taste and no seasoning would have probably been fine. However, these were older chickens – the age of a fryer in the store is eight weeks and these were about 14 weeks – and so they were a bit tougher. They had also been running for their lives right before they were processed.
We did buy knife sharpening tools today and they worked. Clark was in the bathroom and was playing with one of my knives and cut his finger pretty badly. Yesterday that knife was much safer in some ways. He wanted to know if the finger that got cut had blood sugar in it.
The Eviscerator wanted me to pass along that the only bothersome part of the meal last night was the carving of the birds. The kids were sitting around the table trying to figure out which chicken was Domino and which was Pickles and were requesting parts from the birds by name. It was a bit disconcerting for her.
This evening as we were heading out to church we had an emaciated kitten come walking up the driveway. We went to church and she was still here when we got home. She is about six to seven weeks old, thin as a rail and won’t stop trailing along after Scout. Ever the topical homeschooling family we have named her Katrina. We might post a picture of her, but she is pretty ugly and I think our best course of action is to take her into town and dump her off there. Seems fair, a little tit for tat.
We had a death in the brooder this afternoon. I think there is another chick on its last legs right now. We do not have a “hospital” for the ill so we will hope for the best for a while and see what we have in the morning.
Stephen, Mitchell and Faith went to Brownwood with the youth from church after services this evening. They are going to CiCi’s and bowling. Stephen and Mitchell I was fine with, Faith is another story. I know she has the survival skills necessary once she gets comfortable, but until then I worry about her. I told the boys to take care of her. I probably should have clarified that to an admonishment to “protect her.” They will be home soon enough and I will find out what happened eventually.